A poem about the shadow that walks beside us It waits in the corners where silence grows, Whispering secrets, nobody knows or feels. A creak in the hallway, a glance too long, It turns every right into something wrong. It paints the night with uneasy eyes, Builds fragile truths from imagined lies. A heartbeat races, the mind takes flight, Chasing phantoms through the dark of night. Friends become strangers, words become knives, Doubt wraps its fingers around our lives. Yet beyond the noise, beyond the fear, There's a quieter voice still waiting to hear. A voice that says, "Breathe, let the shadows pass. Not every storm is built to last." For paranoia may cloud the view, But it is not the whole of you. And somewhere beyond the anxious haze, The dawn still waits with gentler rays.